


My Only One

by jeahwriting, teenageinvincibility



Category: Phlochte - Fandom, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 14:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1821943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeahwriting/pseuds/jeahwriting, https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenageinvincibility/pseuds/teenageinvincibility
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If it looks like a boyfriend, acts like a boyfriend, and sounds like a boyfriend, it's a boyfriend, right? Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Only One

**Author's Note:**

> What do you say when your heart’s not in it?  
> What do you do when you just don’t get it?  
> What do you do when you reach your limit?  
> You are my only one.  
> That’s all I know.  
> You’re all I know.
> 
> \- My Only One, All Time Low

**Melbourne 2007**

Ryan had never been to Australia before, but now he couldn’t imagine leaving. He and his new friend Cullen were eating lunch and there were wild kangaroos out the window. _Wild. Kangaroos_. There was only one day left in worlds, and Ryan only had the 4x200 free relay left to swim. Overall, he was pleased with his performance. He’d gotten second to Mike in both IMs and medaled in both backstroke events.

And he’d fucked Mike against the window in their hotel room that looked out at the Victoria Harbor. But that was just a bonus for getting gold in the 200 back.

Ryan took another big bite of whatever he was eating that he’d smothered in vegemite - seriously, he’d eat anything as long as vegemite was on it. As the flavor melted into his tongue, he moaned.

“Seriously?” Cullen asked, looking too put-off by Ryan’s sounds to eat his own food. “Save that shit for Mike.”

Ryan and Mike had been sleeping together for almost three years. They didn’t talk about their relationship or what they were, but Ryan was beginning to get less and less satisfaction from sharing a bed with anyone who wasn’t Mike. At previous meets, if one walked in on the other with some random person from the bar, it was no hard feelings. But, thinking back, it had been a few months since Ryan had slept with anyone else. And he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d walked in on Mike.

Ryan kicked Cullen under the table, but didn’t offer any other reaction. It had been three years, after all. People on the team had figured out what they were to each other - or, on a few occasions, caught them in the act. Team USA was their family, so they didn’t care who on the team knew, so long as no one was selling stories or pictures to TMZ. While Ryan Lochte was still an unfamiliar name to those who only paid attention to swimming during the Olympics, Michael Phelps was becoming a household name around the world.

As Ryan brought his sandwich to his mouth again, Aaron Peirsol walked up to their table.

“Hey, Aaron,” Ryan said, bits of vegemite flying from his mouth.

“Have you seen Michael?” Aaron asked.

“Uh,” Ryan swallowed and backhanded his mouth. “Not since prelims. Why?”

“You should go find him.”

Ryan was so concerned that he set his sandwich down. “What’s going on?”

“He’s… uh… I’m not actually sure. All I know is he’s snapping on anyone who talks to him. I think he made Natalie cry. And I’m pretty sure he said something over the line to Jason.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Ryan said, getting up from the table and making his way back down the street towards the hotel.

Ryan could only think of one thing that could be bothering Mike so much that he lost his cool, but he didn’t think it would ever have escalated quite so much. Turning into the hotel, Ryan jammed his thumb into the up arrow repeatedly until the elevator arrived, hit the 5, and then did the same thing with the close button until the heavy doors slid shut with a satisfying thud and the elevator jerked upward.

Ryan tapped his foot and slipped through the doors as soon as they were wide enough for him to fit through. He was worried. Yes, Mike had a temper, but one that was very easily controlled and only ever unleashed on Bob. Mike was the pinnacle of sportsmanship, so for him to make his own teammates cry, Ryan knew it was serious.

As he headed down the hallway, he was lost in his head and collided with Peter.

“Ryan,” Peter said, rubbing his shoulder. “Good. I was looking for you. Look, man, you need to go find Mike.”

“I’m actually on my way there right now,” Ryan said, pointedly looking over Peter’s shoulder.

“Good,” Peter said in his slow, surfer drawl. “Because he’s really messing with the whole vibe of the team - “

“So I’ve heard,” Ryan interjected. “Look, our room’s right down the hall. I’m just trying to talk to him.”

“Good luck,” Peter scoffed. “Like I know you guys are… ya know, whatever you are, but he’s being a real - “

“I’ll go talk to him.”

He slid his keycard into their door and pushed it open as soon as the light flashed green. Ryan wasn’t sure what he expected - maybe their room trashed and Michael standing in the middle of the mess like a sort of Godzilla remake. But instead, Michael was laying on top of his bed typing away on his laptop.

Ryan let the door shut with a click followed by the sound of the mechanical locks sliding back into place. Mike still didn’t look up at him.

“Uh,” Ryan cleared his throat. “Hey, man.”

Michael glanced over at Ryan and then looked back at his laptop. “Hey.”

Ryan moved more into the room, completely perplexed. “Is everything okay? Aaron said - “

“Aaron shouldn’t gossip about his teammates.”

“Fair enough, but you shouldn’t make your teammates cry.”

Michael scoffed. “Whatever.”

“Seriously,” Ryan said, walking up to the bed and snatching Michael’s laptop before he could react. He looked at the screen at his suspicions were confirmed.

The Australian press had been shitting on Michael ever since the Sydney Olympics. They always said some sort of line about how the Americans claimed they created Jesus Christ before he was born, and now they were doing the same with Michael. They constantly compared him to their own Ian Thorpe, saying Michael would never live up to him.

As he scanned through, Ryan gathered that this article was saying more or less the same thing. Until he reached a line that said that Michael hadn’t done anything to prove himself in the pool, so why were people getting so worked up about him. Ryan had to admit that this made even his skin prickle.

“Fuck them,” he said, slamming the laptop shut and looking back at Michael. “You know you’ve done shit in the pool. And you’ve been around way shorter than Thorpe. You haven’t even gotten started.”

“I just don’t get it,” Michael sighed, reaching for Ryan. His fingers closed around Ryan’s wrist, and he pulled Ryan next to where he was positioned on the bed. He rested his head on Ryan’s warm stomach. Ryan carded his fingers through Mike’s buzzcut and Mike hummed pleasantly at the touch. “They called me a disappointment when I won seven fucking medals in Athens. What else can I do?”

“Win eight,” Ryan whispered.

Michael picked his head up off Ryan’s chest to look him in the eyes. Ryan was expecting a laugh - for Mike to say that even he wouldn’t dream of setting his goals that high. Instead, Michael pulled him down into a kiss and whispered, “You’re a genius” against his lips.

 

 

**Beijing 2008**

Ryan was in the stands for the final relay in Beijing. Of course he was. Not only was he finished his races and had nowhere else to be, but this was the last race of the Olympics. Mike’s eighth and final gold medal. If the whole world had to be there, Ryan definitely had to be there.

Ryan and Cullen were dressed head-to-toe in Team USA gear - Ryan even had a Phelps Phan shirt on underneath his USA Swimming shirt.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to wear that tonight,” Michael had groaned when Ryan walked back into their room in the village holding the shirt.

“Sure am,” Ryan had grinned. “I just got it. Debs gave it to Bob who delivered it himself. Which reminds me, does he know about, like, us?”

Michael had set his phone on his stomach to gauge Ryan’s reaction. “Yes,” he’d said slowly. “I mean, it’s not like I told him over lunch one day or anything. He just sort of… knew.”

“Okay,” Ryan had shrugged, and then pulled his USA Swimming shirt over his head to slip into his new Phelps Phan shirt. “I’m so gonna fuck you while wearing this.”

Ryan had never seen so many people at a swimming event in his life. He was sure people had somehow snuck into the Water Cube to witness history.

He and Cullen were on their feet the entire race, both cheering as loudly as they could for their teammates. When Michael dove in for his leg, Ryan felt his heart skip a beat. Michael did his leg in 50 seconds, which was incredible. Then Jason dove in and easily pulled a body-length ahead of the world record line, where he stayed for the remainder of the race.

The large screen in the Water Cube showed Michael’s face after USA had won. Of course the adrenaline, pride, and excitement was plainly shown, but Ryan could also see how tired Michael was.

During the medal ceremony, Cullen elbowed Ryan in the side. “That’s your boy.”

Ryan felt a sort of lump in his throat, but swallowed it quickly. He smiled at Cullen and willed away the tears that were welling up in his eyes as Michael bent over to accept his eighth medal. If Cullen saw Ryan swipe at his eyes, he was kind enough not to say anything.

In the last year since Melbourne, Ryan and Mike’s calls and texts had almost tripled – which was saying something. Their visits had increased, as well, and Mike now had a drawer in Ryan’s dresser. Sometimes, though Ryan would never admit this, he’d wear one of Mike’s shirts to bed if he couldn’t sleep.

On his way back to the village, everyone Ryan passed patted him on the back and said how lucky he was and how proud he looked. They all asked him to give Michael their congratulations. Ryan was getting that feeling in his throat again, so he pulled up the hood on his Team USA hoodie and went back to the village in peace.

Ryan fully expected to get back to the village before Michael, so he stopped on the way to pick up some beers, a bottle of champagne, and fries from McDonald’s. When he got back to their room, he pushed the door open to find Michael sprawled out on the bed they’d been sharing. While there was usually a rule against that, Michael had let it slide this week. After all, he always slept better when Ryan’s back was pressed against his chest and their legs were hooked together.

“Hey, man,” he smiled, setting his bag of goodies on the table. Ryan walked over to the bed to find that Mike was snoring softly, drool coming out of his open mouth.

Not wanting to wake Mike up, Ryan wiped drool from the corner of Mike’s mouth and then went to sit on the couch. He put the TV on, keeping the volume low, and scrolled through his phone. He had many texts from people offering their congratulations on his performance in the Olympics and commenting on how proud he must be of Michael. Ryan glanced over the couch as Michael gave a particularly loud snore and smiled to himself.

Just then, the door burst open.

“Is everyone decent?” Cullen, Nathan, Jason, Aaron, Klete, and Peter all walked in, all of them covering their eyes with their hands.

“Shhh!” Ryan shushed his teammates, pointing over at Mike. “He’s sleeping.”

“Champagne?” Nathan asked, walking across the room and picking up the bottle. “Wait, it’s the good shit, too.”

“Is this the honeymoon suite?” Cullen joked, looking dramatically over his shoulder to check if he’d missed a sign on the door.

“Can I help you?” Ryan asked, getting annoyed.

“Well we’re heading into the city to get trashed and were wondering if you guys wanted to join us,” Jason said. “But I guess Michael needs his rest.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, ignoring the way Peter was looking at him. “Thanks, anyway.”

“For sure,” Peter said, shepherding the guys out of Michael and Ryan’s room. He grabbed the champagne bottle out of Nathan’s hand and pushed him out the door, setting the bottle back on the table. “See you guys tomorrow.”

As the door clicked shut, Michael stirred on the bed. “Who was that?” he mumbled.

“Shit,” Ryan said, getting off the couch and walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told them to be quiet. Go back to sleep.”

“No, it’s okay.” Michael rubbed his eyes, looking around the room. “What’s that?”

“Uh,” Ryan scratched the back of his neck, his other hand resting on Michael’s knee. “I didn’t know if you’d be up for going out or not, so I brought some stuff back.”

Michael cupped Ryan’s face, his thumb running over Ryan’s cheekbone. “Yeah, Doggy, let’s get fucked up.”

 

Two hours later, they’d polished off the beers and were each three glasses of champagne in. Ryan’s insides felt warm and his head felt pleasantly fuzzy. He and Mike were on the couch, their limbs all tangled together. Mike was resting against Ryan’s chest, their legs curled around each other’s.

Mike set his champagne glass down and leaned back against Ryan, stroking Ryan’s thigh with his hand. “Thanks, Ry.”

“For what?” Ryan asked lazily.

“Always being there for me, I guess.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, Ryan carding his fingers through Mike’s hair and stroking his arms.

“Can I tell you something?” Mike asked quietly.

“Duh, dude.”

Michael wriggled uncomfortably, squeezing Ryan’s knee. “I think… I think I’m done. Like I think I’ve reached my limit.”

“What?” Ryan was completely taken aback, and gave his head a small shake to will away the champagne. “Done swimming?”

“What else am I supposed to accomplish?” Michael asked. His tone seemed to be genuinely asking Ryan for an answer.

“Dude, _so_ much! You’re Michael fucking Phelps. You’re Aquaman! But hey,” Ryan said, wrapping his arm around the top of Michael’s chest, pulling him close. “If you’re done, that’s fine. No one can say you haven’t made your mark.”

Michael turned around in Ryan’s arms, taking Ryan’s face in both hands and pressing their foreheads together. “I may be drunk, but I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ryan.”

Mike pressed his lips to Ryan’s, their skin both searing hot. Ryan’s lips were numb, but he kissed Michael with all of the emotion he could muster. Mike slipped his hand under Ryan’s shirt, running his fingers over Ryan’s tanned stomach.

“C’mon,” Ryan said against Mike’s lips. “Let’s go put an end to the Week of No Sex.”

 

 

**Gainesville 2010**

Ryan woke up with a start, but it took him a few groggy seconds to realize why. Then he registered the buzzing on his nightstand and threw his arm out, knocking things all over the place until his fingers closed around his vibrating phone.

“Hello?” he mumbled.

“Ry, open the door.”

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout?” Ryan fisted his eye, trying to figure out if he was still dreaming.

“I’m outside your house. It’s raining.”

“It’s Florida,” Ryan reminded him, throwing the covers off. “And it’s 2:30 in the morning.”

“Yeah, well this is important.”

Ryan opened his front door and a very wet Michael Phelps was standing in front of him. They stared at each other for a few silent seconds until Michael smiled.

“I know you’re thinking it. Just do it.”

Ryan stepped out into the rain and pulled Michael into a kiss. He cupped Michael’s face in his hands as the rain poured down on them. They were both smiling into the kiss and Ryan nipped Michael’s lip as he pulled away.

“So romantic,” Michael grinned.

“Come in, asshole,” Ryan moved aside so Michael could get out of the rain.

Michael dropped his bag by the stairs. He went into Ryan’s laundry room and stripped out of his wet clothes, depositing them in the dryer. Butt naked, he went and found Ryan in the kitchen.

Ryan looked Michael up and down. “I’d tap that.”

“You already have,” Michael reminded him. “But not right now. This is important.”

“I can’t concentrate on anything important while I can see so much of you.”

“I need some clothes.”

“You brought some.”

“Well I want _your_ clothes,” Michael said, trailing his fingers down Ryan’s arm.

After Michael was dressed again, sporting a Gators Swimming shirt, he walked out into the main part of Ryan’s bedroom. Ryan was sitting on his bed, so Michael leaned against the wall opposite him.

Ryan felt his insides get warm and skin tingle. He never got tired of seeing Mike in his clothes. It was sort of like marking Mike as his own. They weren’t officially together, but they might as well have been. They’d started sleeping together a few months after Athens, and if it grew to anything more, they never talked about it. They attended each other’s family events, always roomed together at meets, and had been completely monogamous since 2007.

Ryan knew he loved Michael, and he was positive Michael loved him, but Ryan didn’t want to rush Michael or ruin what they had. He knew the right moment for the conversation would come eventually, but he was content waiting for it for now.

“What’s so important you showed up at 2:30 in the morning on a Tuesday? I have to be at the pool in four hours.”

“We could talk in the morning.”

“No, we’ll talk now.”

Michael sighed, his head dropping back against the wall. “Um… I’m…”

“Gay? Because yeah, Mike, I figured that much when you put your dick in my -”

“Retiring.”

The word hung in the air between them. The first thing Ryan wondered was what that would mean for them. Yes, they made time to see each other outside of the pool, but they never felt any pressure to do so with the promise of meets always there.

“When?”

“After London,” Michael said. He was watching Ryan closely. “My heart just isn’t in it anymore. I don’t get the same things out of it that I used to.”

Ryan couldn’t help but feel like Mike was saying the same things about him.

 

Ryan returned from morning practice with every muscle in his body screaming for him to stop moving. He’d been so tired that he’d somehow screwed up every set, causing Gregg to keep having him repeat them until they were right.

But something else had effected his performance. He couldn’t get last night’s news out of his head. During his sets, he kept trying to imagine a meet without Mike. He was trying to imagine touching the wall after the 200 IM and not having Mike at his lane line. He tried to imagine sharing a room with someone else - someone he didn’t want to play spades and crawl into bed with at the end of the night.

Mike was still in bed when Ryan got home. Not caring that his hair was still wet and he smelled like chlorine and his t-shirt was damp, Ryan climbed on top of Mike, burying his face into Mike’s neck.

“Hey,” Mike laughed. “How was the pool?”

Ryan didn’t answer. He pushed his face harder against Mike’s skin, breathing in the leftover cologne, chlorine, and shampoo. He found Mike’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

“Ryan, are you okay?”

Pressing a kiss where his lips were, Ryan pulled his head back to look at Mike. Concern clouded the brown eyes looking back at him, and something pulled on Ryan’s heartstrings. “What’s gonna happen to us?”

“What do you - “ Understanding finally washed over Mike’s face. He wrapped his arms tightly around Ryan, resting them on the small of his back, and kissed Ryan hard. “Well, I was thinking… When I retire, I’m sort of free, aren’t I? Free to, ya know, go where I want to. Like Gainesville. And I won’t have the weight of training dragging me back to Baltimore - “

Ryan attacked Michael’s mouth with his own, and Michael laughed into the kiss.

 

 

**Gainesville 2012**

Ryan liked to think he wasn’t a jealous person. He liked to think that he could trust the people he was in relationships with not to cheat on him or sell stories to the press. The difficulty was that he and Michael weren’t necessarily _dating_. Sure, they hadn’t slept with anyone besides each other since 2007, but Michael looked awfully touchy-feely with the nameless girls in these Instagram pictures.

Lately, Ryan couldn’t help but feel like he’d waited too long to tell Mike how he felt, and now that Mike was retired, everything would be different, no matter how much Mike assured him it wouldn’t be.

Conor, tired of Ryan moping around, kept taking him to bars after practice.

“You and Mike are practically married,” he assured Ryan. “Whoever those girls are, they don’t mean anything.”

Ryan sighed, gulping down the rest of his third beer. “I guess. But I just… I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

Conor clapped him on the shoulder. “It’ll work itself out, man. Mike’s gonna be here in two weeks. C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

When Ryan got back to his house, there was an airport taxi waiting on the curb. Ryan panicked, quickly running through dates in his head to see if he’d forgotten about an appearance, but nothing came to mind. He opened his car door at the same time as the passenger got out of the taxi.

It was Michael.

Ryan was frozen where he stood, only watching as Michael walked up the driveway toward him, smiling.

“You’re not supposed to be here for two more weeks,” is all Ryan could think to say.

“If you need me to wait here while you sneak your girlfriend out the back door, I will,” Michael teased, going in to kiss Ryan, but stopped when Ryan tensed. “What’s wrong?”

Ryan glanced around at the other houses on his street. “Let’s go out back.”

Michael dropped his bag in its usual place by the stairs and then followed Ryan out to his backyard.

“Is everything okay?” Michael tried again.

“No,” Ryan answered honestly. He’d never been able to lie to Mike. “Who were those girls?”

Michael laughed, immediately wishing he could take it back. “Ryan, they were just models at the resorts. Peter asked me to put them on Instagram for media purposes. Did they really bother you that much?”

“Yes,” Ryan said, and he felt the moment for the conversation had finally arrived. “Look, Mike. Maybe I should’ve told you this a long time ago, but you’re more to me than just a fuck buddy.”

Mike looked offended. “You think I don’t feel the same way?”

“I have no idea! I thought you did, but then I saw those pictures, and I just… I couldn’t…”

Mike closed the gap between them in two strides. He took Ryan’s face in both of his hands, tilting the shorter man’s chin up to look into his stunning blue eyes. “Ryan, all I could think about the entire time I was gone was _you_. None of those beautiful places felt real without you. It’s like I needed your presence to remind me that it was reality. When those girls put their hands on me, it was all I could do not to cringe away from them. My bed felt so empty, and yeah, I easily could’ve filled that spot with one of those girls, but I think that would’ve been worse than the emptiness. Don’t you get it?”

Ryan, suddenly very overwhelmed, looked back down at the ground. Michael, whose hands had fallen while he was talking to hold Ryan’s, moved back up to Ryan’s face.

“ _You_ , Ryan, are it for me. You’re my only one.” Michael stared hard into Ryan’s eyes, willing him to understand. “That’s all I know. Without the pool, you’re my only sense of gravity. My only sense of direction. You’re all I know.”

Ryan reached his own hands up and pulled Michael mouth down to his, kissing him hard. He ran his hands over Michael’s, down Michael’s biceps, and gripped his muscular forearms.

Ryan pulled back from Michael, their foreheads pressed together. “I missed you,” he said. “You were gone for so long.”

Michael moved his hands down, wrapping his arms around Ryan’s lower back. He nudged Ryan’s chin up with his nose, pressing kisses along his neck. “I missed you, too,” he said against Ryan’s neck. “God, I love you.”

Ryan grabbed Mike’s face, bringing them back to eye-level. “What?”

“I’m so in love with you, Ryan. Christ, it took me so long to say it, but I am.”

“I love you, too,” Ryan managed to say as he attached his mouth to Mike’s again. Both of them were smiling so wide it was hard to kiss, but that didn’t stop them from trying.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank god I have jeahwriting to edit my work or this would still be sitting in a GoogleDoc somewhere.


End file.
